Troy Deleted Scenes Part 1: In the Dead of Night
by HaloFin17
Summary: Achilles has an unsettling dream his first night in Troy. NO slash. First installment of the 'Troy Deleted Scenes' series written with Torilei. For more details on that, please see inside. Enjoy, and feel free to review!


**Summary: **Achilles has an unsettling dream his first night in Troy. First of the "Troy Deleted Scenes" series written with **Torilei.** For more details, please see author's note below.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own "Troy" or the _Iliad_. Much credit for the ideas presented in this story also goes to **Tori - **luv ya, hon!!

**Author's Note: **Ok, does it bug anyone else besides me and Tori that the "Troy" DVD has no deleted scenes? Well, we've taken it upon ourselves to help fill in some of the gaps by writing a series of oneshots that we believe would have made a good "Deleted Scene." This is the first installment, and we have at least three more in the works to be published at a future time. Hopefully we can think up a couple more with time. So I hope you enjoy it, and feel free to let us know what you think of the whole idea!!

**Troy Deleted Scenes Part 1: **

**In the Dead of Night**

Achilles woke with a start, shocked to find himself drenched in a cold sweat. His eyes darted around the dark tent as he tried to find what had disturbed his slumber. But he was alone, and all was still. He shivered involuntarily when the cool night air made contact with his damp skin, and he remembered.

A dream. It had been a dream that had so unsettled him. The invulnerable warrior shivered again, but this time not from the cold. He had seen pain, such suffering that even his immovable heart was shaken. Although, in this particular instance, he deemed his concern was justified.

It was their first night here in Troy, and the preceding day had been riddled with both military and political battles. He had won the former and lost the latter, though perhaps only temporarily. But even though he was admittedly weary, he would find no more rest tonight. The chilling visions still haunted him every time he blinked, seared unalterably behind his eyelids.

Donning a long blue robe, he slipped out of his tent and into the night. The dying embers of an occasional fire offered the only light, but it was enough for Achilles. He knew where his destination lay, and it was not far. The godlike son of Peleus berated himself for his naïve foolishness as he walked along the serene beach. It had been only a dream, after all. Hadn't it?

His pace quickened without his knowledge, and he at last arrived. Pushing aside the leather flaps of the modest tent, he stepped quietly inside and strained his eyes to see in the utter darkness. When his vision had adjusted, he settled himself in the darkest corner of the hut and simply watched.

His cousin lay sleeping on a low bed on the other side of the dwelling, but the distance between them was not far at all. If he stretched out his hand, Achilles could have touched the boy's foot. And it was tempting not to. Tempting not to reach out and feel the strength, the warmth, of a living body – to know that Patroclus was alive and well. Unlike in his dreams.

The still form suddenly stirred then, and Patroclus moaned as he squinted his sleepy eyes open.

"Who's there?" he called hoarsely and pushed himself up a bit off the bed, a sixth sense no doubt betraying that someone was there in the tent with him.

"It's alright, Patroclus," his cousin called softly from the depths of the shadows. "It's only me."

"Achilles?" The boy relaxed his guard and lay back down with a muffled groan. "What are you doing here?" His voice was groggy with sleep, and Achilles could hear him stifle a yawn, even though the younger warrior's face was obscured by the darkness.

"It's nothing," the Myrmidon lord replied quietly. "I just couldn't sleep."

"Dreaming again?"

Achilles smiled at him sadly, but his expression was hidden by the night. His cousin knew in vague detail about the dreams that troubled him from time to time – usually after a battle, like the one of the previous morning. Most likely, Patroclus believed his visions to be about the countless soldiers he had slain, for usually they were. But not this time.

"Yes, dreaming," he finally answered.

"About what?" the boy mumbled sleepily into his pillow, and Achilles grinned again, this time out of appreciation. Though he may have been tired, Patroclus knew when his guardian had been upset by something and was in simple need of companionship. He would stay awake and talk for as long as Achilles was willing to be open with him. And naturally, he felt the need to pose that particular question.

"It was about you," the warrior admitted frankly after a brief hesitation, then added, "Are you well, cousin?"

"Of course I am." The youth's deep voice sounded distinctly more alert now, and he raised his head in an attempt to observe his elder more closely. "Why? What happened?"

"I don't remember much." That was not entirely true, and though Patroclus could probably guess as much, he did not press the issue. Achilles could not recall specific details, but he knew beyond any doubt that the happenings of the dream had not been pleasant. Why else would he have come here to his cousin's tent in the dead of night?

"Patroclus, are you sure you're alright?" he asked again, doing his best to mask the parental concern that crept in his tone. But it was no good.

The youth heard it anyway and let out an exasperated sigh. "Yes, cousin, I'm fine. Are _you_?"

Achilles snorted softly. "I will be – eventually."

Patroclus frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

The legendary warlord rose with a weary sigh and came to sit by the boy's bedside. "It means your thick-headed cousin's been thinking too much and now has no idea what he's talking about."

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time," Patroclus retorted with a sudden, teasing grin, and Achilles responded with a playful swat at the boy's head.

"There'll be none of that, now. Go back to sleep," he ordered, smiling in turn despite himself. "We can talk more in the morning."

The youth compliantly laid his head back down. "Are you staying?" he asked, his voice muffled somewhat by the pillow.

"Probably – just to think a while."

"Alright. Good night, then."

"Good night, cousin," Achilles echoed, reaching over to gently ruffle the boy's blonde hair.

Patroclus grinned at him, then rolled over onto his side so that his back was toward his cousin. Within moments, his soft, steady breathing told Achilles he was sound asleep.

The feared warrior drew the crumpled blanket up over the boy's shoulders and sat back once again in silence, simply observing the rhythmic rise and fall of his cousin's torso. For the hundredth time that night, Achilles reassured himself that Patroclus was fine. And he planned to do everything in his power to ensure that the boy stayed that way for many years to come.

As he'd told his young cousin, Achilles remained in the still quiet of the dark tent only long enough to gather his thoughts and calm his anxieties. But by the time he left, the sky was already alight with the dim grey of early morning. This night had been far too long for his liking, and he only prayed the days to come would be easier to endure.


End file.
